Wait For Me to Come Home
by clintnat
Summary: Natasha returns from a mission to find an unusually adorable sight. (Based on one of my personal favorite OTP a baby prompts).


Part of the "Of Spies and Small Ones" universe.

This fits somewhere in the same series as Starting Small, just roughly a month or so before. As I said in the notes for that fic, it could be part of a larger fic/series, I'm still just working out all of the details.

* * *

 _We keep this love in a photograph._

 _We make these memories for ourselves._

 _Where our eyes are never closing,_

 _Hearts are never broken,_

 _Time's forever frozen still._

* * *

Natasha was exhausted by the time she finally got to her front door. STRIKE missions were nothing new, she had been doing them for years after all, but there was something about being away from her family that made them more tiring. It had always been that way, she realized, when she and Clint were together, they were a team; anticipating each other's steps and making things feel effortless. When they were separated, well, it wasn't the same. Whether she was paired with Rogers or on her own, the steps weren't as easy and that made the work feel more tiring.

It was a choice they made together, though- choosing to take turns going into the field at least until their son was old enough to be left in someone else's care. Even then, they couldn't leave him with just anybody and trustworthy people were few and far between in this business. Natasha supposed she trusted Steve, but to care for her son while she and her partner were away on a mission? Probably not. The most capable friend was probably Sharon, but she was an agent herself and had her own assignments.

For now, it would just be Clint and Natasha switching back and forth on missions, whichever agent was most appropriate taking the case. They were normally paired with Rogers and his usual STRIKE team, which Fury said was just for convenience but she was convinced it was because it gave them their best chance to make it out alive. Together, the pair was usually unstoppable but life happens and things change. Their handler, Agent Phil Coulson died and Natasha miraculously got pregnant. Keeping the baby had its disadvantages and she was originally quite certain that she didn't want it. But she had almost lost Clint, they had lost Coulson, and the sound their baby's heartbeat remained a solid reminder that yes, bad things happen, aliens invade earth, and people die, but life goes on.

 _It's good to be back,_ Natasha thought, pulling her key out of her bag and opening the door to the Washington DC apartment she and Clint shared. Just as suspected, the place wasn't exactly what someone would call "spotless".

It wasn't a mess, just cluttered. Baby contraptions were spread across the room, jumbled with a mixture of toys, pacifiers, and blankets. Babies took up a lot of space and that was something they had been forced to adjust to over the past six months as parents. The once empty areas of the small living room now contained a pack-n-play playpen and a bouncer, the dining room had been rearranged to occupy a high chair, and the spare bedroom that had once been a decent size home gym had been converted into a nursery, containing another wide variety of baby furniture. Not that Natasha minded, though. She and Clint loved their son more than they ever thought possible, ridiculous amount of necessities and all.

The clutter wasn't what caught her eye in this moment. She had opened the door to a rare sight, one of the most precious she had seen. It wasn't often that her heart stopped in her chest, completely overwhelmed by something good, but the sight of Clint Barton asleep on the couch, a baby curled up on his chest was enough to make her heart skip a beat. Or maybe four.

Clint's light hair stood completely untamed in every direction, a few days' worth of stubble framing his face, and his favorite old t-shirt clung perfectly to every inch of his torso. He snored, his eyes remaining closed with one hand under his head and the other on their son's back. The baby's head was comfortably nestled in his father's neck, one chubby index finger in his mouth, while he was clad in a plain white onesie. His other hand gripped his favorite toy; a small, stuffed hawk that Coulson had given Clint as a gag gift for his birthday once.

Even asleep, both Barton boys looked more alike than imaginable. Their noses scrunched up the same and the baby had definitely inherited his father's ears. Although she had only rarely seen any pictures, Natasha knew that Clint must have had light blond hair just like their son's as a child. The little boy had her chin for sure though, and without a doubt her fiery personality.

 _A picture perfect moment_ , Natasha thought as she clicked open the camera app on her phone. Slow and steady, she positioned and focused the camera, snapping a quick picture of the image in front of her. She smiled as she looked back at it, knowing these were the moments she would hold onto next time she had to leave for work.

"Hey," Clint's tired and groggy voice came from a few feet away. His eyes were barely open, just squinting as he looked down at the baby on his chest and back to Natasha.

"Hi," she whispered in reply as she dropped her bags and snuck over to the couch. He moved over slightly, trying not to jostled the baby and let her curl up next to him. It was about as comfortable as it looked, two grown adults and a baby curled together on a small piece of furniture, but that was a non-issue in the moment.

Natasha laid her head on Clint's shoulder and he wrapped her arm around her, his scent and warmth welcoming her back to their life away from lies and espionage. Other than his small steady breaths, their baby boy remained still and peaceful where he slept.

"How was your mission?"

"Well, from the looks of it," she said as she pointed her thumb in the direction of the rest of the unorganized apartment, "Apparently easier than yours."

"Hey," he played hurt, "It's not easy doing this without you."

"I missed both of you. So much," Natasha said, a sad smile creeping up on her lips as she lightly traced her son's ear with her finger.

Clint tightened his arm around her and kissed her forehead like a reflex, a habit, something he did every day for years, "We missed you too. I can't do this without you, Tash."

She glanced up at her partner, her red hair spilling over his arm and the side of the couch. His blue eyes settled on hers, transmitting and receiving a thousand words and a hundred conversations at once. _Home,_ was the only word she could think of to describe the moment that she reached up and pressed her lips to Clint's, closing her eyes as she welcomed his reply.

 _Home._


End file.
